Sovereign (20 page)

The sound of fighting reached him. From the west again. How many more times would the Chetts throw themselves so bravely and bloodily against that wall? How long could Galen and the defenders resist?

Charion called out, crying in pain. Farben gently held her down, spoke soothing words to her.

Waylong lit the torch he had specially prepared with wood just turned from green and bound with dampened twine. He glanced one more time at the western horizon and entered the tunnel. For the first few paces he could almost stand, but as it made its way north and deeper into the ground he had to stoop lower and lower until he was crouching. Finally the tunnel widened enough for him to stand again, and on all sides his workers had stacked dry brush around the timber beams that kept the room from collapsing under the weight of the north wall directly above. As well, the workers had prepared two flimsy tables made from branches of dead trees, and on each table rested a la round bowl filled with fine flour. Two engineers were still there, slowly easing out the pegs that joined roof beams to wall stays. When they were finished he waved them out, knelt down and lit a special section of brush that led to the timber frame.

He had done this twice before in his life, and always the temptation was to stay to ensure the cavity collapsed, but discretion played a larger part in his makeup than curiosity and he moved as quickly as he could back through the tunnel. He had gone not more than forty paces when he heard the whooshing sound that meant the brush around the timber and makeshift tables had caught light. He tried to move even faster, knocking his head on the ceiling several times.

Waylong was nearly halfway through the tunnel when the tables collapsed, sending the flour into the air. The ensuing explosion sent a wall of air through the tunnel that whipped his hair and clothes around him, the heat burning against his exposed skin. He made sure not to breathe for a few seconds then took in great gulps of air. He could see golden daylight ahead. Smoke now curled around him. As the tunnel widened and he moved from a crouch to a stoop, he started running, imagining he looked something like Ager in full flight. The thought made him giggle and he almost dropped his torch.

He leaped the last few paces out of the tunnel, followed by a huge cloud of smoke that coughed into the air. Sappers gathered around him, patting the soot and dirt off his clothes, but he ignored them and peeked over the lip of the mantlet covering the trench to see the north wall.

He groaned inside. It was still there, its stone surface turning bronze in the late afternoon light.

Mally half dragged, half carried the water bucket up the stairs to the north wall. He stopped every twenty paces and lolled out three scoops of water for each guard until he finally came to the gatehouse and there let the bucket be so he could stand next to his grandfather. Brettin was sergeant in charge of the gatehouse, and Mally could not have been prouder.

'They're attacking the west wall again,' Mally told him.

Brettin nodded. 'But they'll not get through.'

'They did once,' Mally pointed out.

'And were massacred for their efforts.'

'Why do they keep on doing it?'

'Because they're barbarians, Mally, and know no better.'

Mally thought about that for a moment before saying, cautiously, 'I heard they had Haxans with them.'

Brettin looked down at him and frowned. To his mind, little ones like Mally should not be told things that might make them afraid. 'I've not seen any.'

'They digging the trenches and making the artillery.' Mally leaned closer and whispered to Brettin. 'And I heard they is mining, too.'

Brettin took Mally's hand, took him out to the walkway and pointed down to where their own trenches had been dug. Inside the trenches three men lay flat on their stomachs with their ears to the ground. 'See them?' Mally nodded. 'They can hear enemy miners at work. We've got listeners like them scattered all around the land walls. No one will get through.'

Mally said nothing, but even as he watched he saw two of the listeners look at each other and shrug. He may only have been nine years old, but he knew what that signal meant. They could not hear a thing above the din of the assault on the west wall, and the crashing of enemy missiles against stone.

A bright flashing light in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned and saw a fireball arc over the west wall and land in an avenue. It scattered embers and sparks, but there was nothing there to catch fire. Then another fireball swung over the wall. It landed as far in as the first, but further south. It disappeared through a warehouse roof. For a moment nothing happened, but even as Mally watched flames started licking up from the roof. Workers in the streets gave the alarm, and soon there was a chain of men and women passing water buckets. After a short while they seemed to be making progress.

'They're beating the fire, Brettin!' Mally called proudly.

'This time,' Brettin said quietly. He knew the enemy would shoot two or three fireballs at a time until they saw flames, telling them they had hit a good target. A moment later a cluster of fireballs followed the trajectory of the second, most of them hitting buildings of one kind or another. Even where he was, Mally could hear the screams of people caught in the sudden bombardment.

'They'll need more than buckets of water,' Brettin said lowly.

There heard a dull explosion and the wall seemed to shift.

'Was that from the warehouse?' Mally asked.

His grandfather's eyes widened. 'Mally, I want you to take a message to your mumma for me.' His voice was calm, but it sounded to Mally like Brettin was trying real hard to keep it that way. 'I want you to tell her that I'll be home later than I thought. I'm on extra duty tonight.'

Mally looked at Brettin curiously. 'But you've been on duty since
last
night.'

Brettin took Mally's hand and dragged him to the stairs. 'In case you hadn't noticed, we're under attack!' he said angrily. 'Now go home and tell your mumma what I said.' He pushed Mally in the back to set him on his way. 'Hurry!'

Mally, confused by the sudden change in his grandfather, hesitated for a second, but Brettin pushed him a second time and he ran down the stairs as fast as he could. On the last two steps he thought he was going to fall because he swayed as though he would faint. Then his feet were on the ground and he was steady again. He looked back up at the wall to wave goodbye to Brettin, but he was not there. His feelings a little hurt he started to run, but stopped when he heard a sound like the grinding of giant teeth. He turned around and saw something he did not think was possible. The wall was moving. It was as if the white stones had become as wobbly as fat. At first he thought it was amusing, not understanding what it meant, but when he saw some of the guards fall off the walkway and plummet to their death, his heart froze with fear.

'Brettin!' he shouted and started running back, but even as he did so the wall leaned away from him and disappeared in a billowing cloud of dust and smoke, taking the guard tower with it. The cloud enveloped him, turning day into night. A stone ricocheted off the road and struck him in the head. He feel, bleeding, and knew no more.

Ager had not heard the mine explosion but had seen Waylong running out of the tunnel. He looked anxiously at the north wall; his heart sank when he saw nothing happen.

'Well?' Lynan demanded.

Ager could only shrug helplessly, but even as he did so a shout started among the sappers and his gaze shot back to the wall. For a moment he thought nothing had changed and was wondering what the commotion was about, then he saw that the top of the wall seemed to be waving slightly as if he was looking at it through a heat haze. Then it fell. His jaw dropped in amazement.

'That's it!' Lynan shouted. 'Remove the barricade!'

Haxan sappers used ropes and pulleys to pull down a section of the stake fence about a hundred paces long. Lynan kicked his horse into action through the gap, and without being told the warriors of the Red Hands and the Ocean Clan streamed after him. The field between the Chett camp and Daavis was filled with charging cavalry, their riders screaming war cries, and in front was the terrible White Wolf.

Workers and civilians and soldiers who had rushed to the collapsed wall froze in place when they saw the tide rushing towards them, then with yelps of panic most of them scattered, trying to find some refuge. A small number of the soldiers tried to dress a line, but as the

Chett charge drew closer their courage failed them and they too ran for cover.

When the cavalry reached the collapsed wall the charge, for all its elan, faltered as horses picked their way through rubble and broken bodies. Hume archers on those sections of the wall still standing picked off a few of the riders. Lynan dismounted and ran for the nearest stairs, followed by those Red Hands who saw what he was doing, and started clearing the walkway of any enemy. One archer managed to shoot an arrow through Lynan's leg, but it did not slow him down. Terrified, the archer threw himself off the wall before Lynan could reach him. In a few short moments the entire section of the north wall east of the break to the next guard tower was clear of the enemy.

Meanwhile the warriors from the Ocean Clan had got through the rubble and were quickly organising into troops, each troop directed by Ager down a different avenue or street to clear away any soldiers rushing to plug the gap caused by the fallen wall. Another group of Red Hands stormed what was left of the main gate, easily beating back the guards who were still in shock.

By now Korigan had brought up the rest of the banners; as the Red Hands cleared guard towers they were ordered off their horses and up onto the walkways to hold the walls against any counterattack. Following Korigan came the Haxan sappers under the command of Captain Waylong, who immediately started clearing away rubble.

As his Red Hands cleared the last guard tower on the north wall Lynan led them around to the west wall and slammed into the defenders still trying to beat off Eynon's fourth assault, unaware that the city had been breached from the north. The enemy soldiers panicked, and in their haste to escape the mad white prince jammed the walkway so that their fellows could not even defend themselves against the Chetts climbing the wall on ladders and ropes. The next few moments saw the bloodiest fighting of the siege, and in the fore was Lynan, using a short sword he took from a fallen Red Hand, stabbing at anybody that was in front of him, using his strength to throw enemy over the side. There was so much blood the walkway was slippery with it and the smell of it fillet Lynan's head. He did not want the slaughter to stop Behind him came a wedge of his Red Hands, screaming and snarling, desperate to ensure Lynan was not isolated from them. The final blow for the defenders was the appearance of Eynon himself, filled with a rage that matched Lynan's. On the wall for the second time, the deaths of so many of his warriors fuelling his anger, he fell on the Daavis soldiers like an avalanche. Together, the two leaders cut a swathe to the first guard tower on the west wall, cleared it of enemies and swept on to the next section of walkway, carrying all before them. More and more of Eynon's warriors clambered over the wall and down the stairs, killing all who were in their way.

A moment came when Lynan was without an enemy to kill. He stood on the walkway, Chett warriors streaming around him, and looked out over the city. The sun was down and Daavis was dressed in a malevolent twilight filled with smoke and the cries of the dying. He could see his forces moving south from the north wall and east from the west wall, driving all before them, Houses, shops and warehouses were on fire. Bodies clogged drains and doorways. In the middle of the city he could see the palace and wondered what was going on in the mind of Queen Charion. Did she know yet that her city had fallen?

As she left the darkness behind, the tails of her dreams slid against her consciousness. For a moment she remembered her misshapen tormenters with the kind voices of those she loved: her father scolding her, her first lover accusing her of betraying him, Galen calling her a slut, Farben refusing to carry out her orders. And over all of them a voice she had not heard before, male and female, coming from a great distance and speaking of blood.

And then it was all gone, and in its place were new sounds no less terrifying but dramatically more immediate.

Her eyes blinked open and she saw Farben's face looking down at hers with great concern. 'Your Majesty? How are you feeling?'

'I'm feeling fine,' she wanted to say, but the words came out slurred. She tried to sit up, but pain rippled through her chest and her breath whooshed out of her.

'Don't move,' Farben's voice pleaded. 'You're hurt.'

'What happened?'

'You fell defending the west wall.'

'How long ago?'

'Yesterday.' He looked out the room's only window.

'I don't remember…'

'You were unconscious, your Majesty. You are lucky to be alive. Galen and I brought you back here—'

'Galen! Where is he?'

'He took your place on the wall. He is a good soldier.'

'Yes,' Charion agreed vaguely. Her eyelids fluttered.

'You should get more sleep,' Farben told her.

It was tempting. But something had woken her. Something was wrong. Then she heard the sounds again. 'What's happening?'

'The Chetts are attacking again. Galen will beat them back.'

'No. The sounds are closer than that—'

'Galen will beat them back,' Farben repeated.

She tried sitting up again, but once more the pain defeated her. 'What is wrong with me?'

'You have some broken ribs. You are bruised from shoulder to hip.'

Charion caught his gaze and said with sudden sternness, 'How would you know?'

Farben blushed. 'When we found you we did not know if you had been cut or stabbed. There was so much blood—'

'We?"

Farben sighed. He could not believe he was having this conversation. Why did Charion always find a way to make him feel so foolish?